Monday Morning Commute: Non-Consensual Rear End Collision

Art by Robert Sammelin.

What’s good in the hood, folks? Been a hell of week! Hell of a fucking week. I suffered a butt-drubbing last week at the hands of a son a bitch in a FedEx truck. The little Japanese Car that Could, which had shuttled me to work and back for many a year, Now Simply Can’t. Smash-pow! Don’t ever stop for pedestrians. That is the lesson learned. Crazy Taxi those motherfuckers. Grand Theft Auto right through their right of way. No, I’m just kidding. Don’t do that. Unless you’re fleeing from laser-cocked zombies, who want to nourish their hunger on your balls. Or labia. Laballs. Where was I? I blame the concussion. Oh yeah! This is Monday Morning Commute. The column where we share the various arts, farts, sexual proclivities (still waiting for someone to break that ice), and other general things you’re enjoying on a given week.

Let’s party, gals and guys.

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Totally going to play Tomb Raider.

Fuck you, I’m playing Tomb Raider.
Caff-Pow has lately been suffering something of a gaming renaissance. Over perhaps the last half-decade, I more dabbled in video games than anything else. However, with the closure of my graduate career I have found myself with oodles of time. What have I done with this time? Written? Nah. Exercised more? Sort of. Played fucking every video game? Yeah. Fuck yeah! Tomb Raider wasn’t shit to me until late last year. I wasn’t gulping the hype sent my way, deciding to continue feeling the same way I had always felt about the series. Meh! However, last year during New York Comic-Con I snagged a controller and gave the pig a whirl. Sweet delicious nipples! The entire endeavor rubs against my leg like Uncharted: Katniss Fuck Yeah!

Good enough for me, friends.

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The Illustrated Man.

The Illustrated Man continues to blow my mind.
I’m taking my time with this sweetheart. Bradbury’s imagination overpowers me, causing great pause in my soul. I can only traverse one or two short stories at a time. Then I must stop. Think it over. Try and shake off the sublime that slithers into my soul whilst reading it. Unlike most books, I am taking my time with it. Nibbling at the thoughts, ruminating on the suggestions and themes. Dude is too much. Way too fucking much.

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Patrick Bateman wins.

On our Patrick Bateman won his first jujitsu tournament.
Shout out to our own Patrick Bateman. Unless you’ve strolled by the OL Booth at a convention, you may not know that Sir Bateman is more than the forgetful coder and business side of Omega Level. He is also something of a mesomorph, with muscles for days. In fact, one has postulated that his sheer lack of body fat is the same reason he runs around in nothing but a trench coat. How else can we explain his proclivity for wearing thigh-high shorts and doing sprints at the local High School Track while the cheerleaders are practicing? Has to be some sort of impaired brain function. Even his nipples can do curls. It’s fucked. Anyways, the Physical Specimen entered into his first jujitsu tournament. And won. Of course the egotistical piece of shit won. So props to you sweet heart! Now get our fucking Tumblr feed working.

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I NEED MUSIC.

I need new music.
Someone help me out.

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Turn Coat.

Jesus Fucking Christ, the Dresden Files’ Turn Coat is awesome.
Off and on, I have been babbling in this post about my love for Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files. Neal Stephenson plays Halo to get through his awful cardiovascular workouts. I employ Butcher, my Kindle, and the glorious Harry Dresden. For months, I have delved into the enormous series much to my enjoyment.  However, after reading through the first ten books or so, I am about to embark on a first. I’m opening up my Kindle and reading it at home. That’s the sort of next level shit that this installment in the series is bringing.

I know I’m shouting into the wind when it comes to this series, but you can’t stop my proselytizing. For those who like detective novels, sex scenes, wizardry (the awesome kind, okay), and something soft to rub your temples against after a long fucking day, get into this jam.

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That is about it, folks. What are you digging on, this week? And full credit to ROBERT SAMMELIN for the header image.